In The Eye Of The Beholder
by Hidden In The Darkness 15
Summary: Severus Snape hates the rain almost as much as he hates Harry Potter. Then again, the line between hate and love is thin. Snarry!


Okay. So my first attempt at a Harry Potter fic. I know, another teacher/student thing, but I just can't help it, I absolutely love this couple! So, here we go with the first and only chapter of _**The Eye of the Beholder**_!

Disclaimer: I have many names, but sadly, none of them is JK Rowling, who is the only person in the world who can claim to own Harry… Though, if I had my way, Sevvy could make that claim… ^^

* * *

_**The Eye of the Beholder**_

Severus Snape limped through the vast, empty halls of Hogwarts, growling at anybody who dared to cross his path, few though there may be. The Easter Holidays had rolled around as winter slowly melted into spring, and the deep snow that blanketed the ground melted into slush. Most of the insects that infested the building had left for the duration of the holiday, off to exotic places with their muddle minded parents.

Severus knew that he shouldn't have let Filch care for the injury that blasted overgrown mutt had given him so long ago, due to the caretaker's incompetence, it had never healed properly, sure it was fine most of the time, but in extreme weather it ached like bloody hell. This reminder caused the Potions Master to scowl at the window, which showcased the rain falling in sheets outside. Not only that, it also showed someone out on the grounds, by the lake, their face upturned to the torrents of water.

"Bloody idiot!" Snape exclaimed, though it was too far to actually see who it was, anyone who was stupid enough to willingly do that was an idiot in his books. Then again, anyone who dared breathe was an idiot in his books.

He strode down the last set of stair, his old injury forgotten in his anger, and secret glee of the prospect of taking house points from the dunder head in the rain.

Throwing open the gigantic doors that lead to the courtyard, he used his wand to cast a quick water repelling spell on his cloak and hair, which was flowing freely due to the fact that he didn't have to fear exploding cauldrons, thus didn't bother with the protecting potions for it.

He stepped outside, and made a beeline for the only other person outside, and the closer he drew to the other figure, the more his anger grew.

Black hair, glasses, scrawny, no concern for his own health. There was only one person that could be.

Potter.

The boy-who-refused-to-die stood by the Black Lake, face upturned and eye closed, no matter that he was in open land, that the war had only ended a few years ago, and that some Death Eaters had slipped into the cracks, probably ready to strike at any moment. No matter that it was cold and that he was only wearing a pair of black slacks and a dark green shirt that was plastered to his skin. No bloody matter that he will probably catch a bloody cold!

"POTTER!" Snape thundered, bringing the idiotic boy out of whatever trance he was in.

Green eyes snapped open, dazed for a mere moment before they zeroed in on the source of his name.

"Professor Snape. Can I help you?" The boy-no-man, asked, his voice bland.

"Professor Potter, I realize that you have few, if any brains, but even you should know better than to stand in the rain in bloody cold." Snape ground out between clenched teeth. It still almost physically pained him to call the other raven haired man professor.

"This may shock you, Professor Snape, but some people enjoy the rain. In fact, most people enjoy the rain. You seem to be an exception." The younger man retaliated, though the grin he shot at his unexpected company took any bite out of the words, leaving behind playful banter. It took a master of body language to notice that the smile didn't exactly meet his eyes, or that said eyes were rimmed slightly with red, indicating the man had been crying recently.

"I do know that, Potter, but I also know that you, in fact, join me as an exception, that you hate the rain almost as much as I do." Snape pointed out, deliberately dropping the other teacher's title.

Harry turned away, holding out a hand to let the small, inoffensive droplets pool in the cupped palm. "I do, I'll admit that, but it also is an expert at hiding tears, and as I suspect you've already noticed, I was in need of that aspect of the weather." The playful tone was replaced by a deeper, world weary voice that seemed to come from deep within the sodden man's chest.

"What would you have to cry for, Potter?" Snape demanded, though as soon as the last syllable left his lips, he knew a few good reasons. Dead parents, dead godfather, dead friends, death on his hands, child abuse, a marriage that was rapidly going into the toilette. Just a few.

"My divorce came through today; Ginny and I are no longer man and wife." Well, whatever Severus was expecting, that wasn't it.

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?! 'I'm sorry' didn't really cut it, and he wouldn't mean it anyway, did Harry even expect sympathy? From him?! The idea was laughable, so he said nothing.

Apparently Harry didn't expect anything, because he kept talking. "The funny thing is, these aren't even tears of sorrow, if not for lost love, at least for a lost connection. No, these are tears of joy. I'm free, for the first fucking time in my life. Marrying right after fulfilling that damn prophecy was a not very bright idea. Just switching one obligation for another." Harry spun back to face him. "I'm free, and it's all thanks to Ginny. She realized before even I did that my heart wasn't in our marriage. How, I don't think I'll ever know. A girl thing, most likely. She had to tell me that she wasn't the one I was meant to be with. I think we might be the first couple to part on such great terms…"

It was clear to Severus that Harry had lost it, and he did the only thing he could think of to bring the delusional teacher back. "Potter, either you start making sense, or I will convince the Headmistress that you need to be checked into St. Mungo's, indefinitely." When all else fails, use threats.

Unfortunately, Potter didn't seem to hear him, and kept rambling. "She also had to reveal to me who was really meant for me, and believe me, when she pointed it out; I denied it vehemently to the end. I had so many points in argument to her fact. Too old, too greasy, possibly evil, definitely hates me, way too old, and did I mention hates me? But, in the end, she won, and I had to accept it in the end. I was gayer than a male Broadway director, and in love with Severus Snape."

* * *

Severus Snape sat up in bed with a gasp and a groan. A dream. Another bloody dream.

The war was still going on; Potter was still a pigheaded sixth year, he had just broken up with the airheaded Weasley girl, and he was straight, unlike the man who was now clambering out of bed, stumbling in the dark to the bathroom, and pouring himself an ice cold glass of water.

No matter how much he hated himself, or denied it, or repressed it, his subconscious would always bring to light his secret desires. He was as straight as a circle, and had a thing for a student young enough to be his son!

Life sucks.

* * *

Harry Potter sat up in bed, his red comforter pooling around his waist, concealing his slight problem. That damn dream again! No matter how much he slept, he always woke up at the same point, just before completion.

Harry had accepted long ago that he was gay. He had broken up with Ginny due to the fact that, no matter how he tried, there was no way he could find her attractive. No, it was who he was attracted to that kept him up at night to prevent that certain dream. It began in the dungeon, another detention, which was really no shock at all, considering just how many of those he had down there. No, it was the fact that Snape stayed, although in real life he left to grade papers in his quarters, leaving Harry with instructions, and coming back only to tell the teen to leave. No, Snape stayed, and when Harry has is back turned, he saunters up to the unexpecting teen, clever hands caressing his torso. No words are spoken, and it all turns into a red, pleasurable haze.

And in the morning, Harry wakes up with a demanding situation and a phrase on his lips.

Life sucks.

* * *

Easter. Harry hated Easter. Ron went to his family's house, and Gryffindor tower was almost completely deserted. It rained more often than not, and Harry hated rain almost more than he hated Moldy Warts. It made him feel depressed, like nothing would ever go right, that no matter what, he would fail, so what was the point in trying? So Harry did the only sensible thing. He went to sit out by the lake in the rain, staring up at the weeping clouds.

He jumped when an all too familiar voice growled behind him, "Potter, what the bloody hell are you doing sitting out in the rain?"

Leave it to Snape to find him when he was most vulnerable. So he said the first thing that came to mind, "It may come as a shock to you, Professor, but some people actually like the rain. In fact, most people do, which would make you an exception to the rule." He grinned all the while, hoping he had effectively hidden the pain in his voice and eyes.

Harry didn't know what he expected. Maybe a biting remark back, or a threat to his house points.

He certainly did not expect the raven haired teacher to swoop down on him and smash their lips together. He gasped and tumbled onto his back, only managing a shocked, "P-professor?"

"Shut up, Potter, I don't know when I'll wake up, but I plan to enjoy this for as long as possible." Snape ordered before pinning the boy to the ground and ravaging his lips, letting out a frustrated growl when he wasn't granted access to the boy's mouth.

Harry managed to push him off long enough to exclaim, "This isn't a dream!" before his lips were claimed again.

Two voices were warring in his head. One was murmuring for him to just let it go, to go with the flow. This is what he wanted after all. The other voice proclaimed that this wasn't _how_ he wanted it. Not at all, and to stop this before it went too far, and Professor Snape hated him even more.

Harry wanted so badly to listen to the first voice, but his Gryffindor pride wouldn't allow him to, so, instead he rooted into Professor Snape's sleeve until he reached flesh, and pinched what he found here viciously.

Snape cursed loudly, and backed up a bit, rubbing his arm and glaring at Harry. "What was that for?!" He demanded.

Harry just brushed himself off a bit, before meeting molten black eyes. "Did you feel that, Professor?" He asked calmly.

It took a minute for the realization to hit the teacher, but when it did, he cursed colorfully, and in more languages than Harry had ever heard of.

"Welcome back, Snape. Now I ask that next time you try to molest me, I get some forewarning. I'd rather it be in a more private place, and a bit more romantic than you taking my virginity in the mud, in the rain, in the open." Not giving the man time to respond, Harry turned towards the castle, and made his way towards it, but not before tossing one last thing over his shoulder. "See you at dinner, Sevvy!"

Severus Snape trotted to catch up to the teen, thinking, he still didn't like rain, but maybe it could be beautiful. Like when it was dripping down a certain student's face.

~End~

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Ooh, that was actually fun to write. I think I might write another one… later. Maybe a sequel, or something… what do y'all think? Any~who, like most of my stories, this one was written late at night, and I'm exhausted, so, merry Thanks Giving to all, and to all a good night! ^^


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